


Like Vines We Intertwined

by bananasandboots



Series: You Watched Me Sink Verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananasandboots/pseuds/bananasandboots
Summary: "You want to tell me what's up with you tonight?" Louis tries. "With the flowers and the suit jacket and kissing me on the cheek?"Harry's stomach twists. "It's your big night," he says feebly. "And I'm kind of a big fan.""Of musicals?""Yeah," Harry shrugs. "And you."Or, the one where Harry and Louis first figure it out. A prequel toYou Watched Me Sink.





	Like Vines We Intertwined

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to [You Watched Me Sink](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6896620). If you haven't read that yet, you might want to check it out first, or else this may or may not make any sense.
> 
> Anyway, this is for the anon that asked for a prequel a few weeks ago. I haven't been able to write anything that I've genuinely enjoyed since I finished my last story months ago, and this has been the only thing I've managed to put together that wasn't complete rubbish (at least I hope not...). It's just a little fun piece about the first night Harry and Louis got together. Enjoy!

It's five minutes before the lights dim and the curtain opens, and Harry has been sweating in his suit jacket outside the side entrance to the theater for the past half hour.

"Last chance to find him," Niall warns, elbowing him in the ribs as he holds the door open for a family of six.

Harry adjusts his grip on the bouquet behind his back, the clear plastic wrapping crinkling obnoxiously in the quiet corridor.

"Find who?" he asks.

Niall rolls his eyes. _"Find who,"_ he mimics, motioning toward Harry's flowers. "Louis, you dolt. Or do you mean to tell me those roses aren't for him?"

"They aren't," Harry insists. "I mean, they are, but they're for the show, for good luck. They're for everyone."

"Are you planning on passing them around backstage to all the students?" Niall asks. "One for Jordan, one for Clara, one for Lee, and Evan, and-"

"Why are you like this?" Harry cuts him off. "Of course they're for Louis, but they're not, like, I don't know." He lets out a frustrated sigh, ready to give Niall a kick in the bad knee. "They're not anything special."

"They're red roses," Niall points out, amused and skeptical.

"They looked nice," Harry defends himself. He hadn't thought about any of the implications when he'd stopped by the florist on the way to the school. He'd just seen the roses in the window, thought they'd matched the whole musical theater vibe of the night, and had quickly offered up as much cash as he'd had in his wallet for the biggest bouquet he could safely transport to the school on his motorcycle.

And now he's here, standing outside the auditorium in a pair of black skinnies with his black button up and his black suit jacket, holding two dozen blood red roses. He feels nice and dramatic. Louis is going to love the effort.

"You think I should find him before the show starts?" Harry asks, wishing he'd made up his mind sooner now that time is running out.

"I don't know," Niall muses. "The kids need to focus, and Fit Mr. Styles is going to be a distraction backstage."

Harry sighs, loud and frustrated. "You're annoying," he says, staring at the ceiling. "At what point in my career do I stop being the fit teacher?"

"When the next fit one comes along," Niall grins. "You've only been here seven months. Get over it."

"I'm going to find Louis," Harry sighs. "I'll meet you inside."

Niall calls after him as he starts to walk away, further down the corridor, to the backstage door. "Kiss him good luck!" he shouts, loud enough for any nearby students or parents to hear. "And then kiss him again for me!"

Harry doesn't reply. He doesn't turn around. He doesn't acknowledge any of it.

He adjust some of the crooked flowers in the bouquet, heart beating a little faster, and slips through the back door into the chaos that is the last five minutes before the final production of this year's spring musical. Niall's teasing doesn't need any acknowledgment. Yes, Louis is attractive, and yes, Harry kind of wants to kiss him a lot, and yes, _maybe_ he almost has, like _five_ times by now, but no, he's not going to. Because Louis is his closest friend in this school, and Harry likes him far too much to go and complicate things by developing feelings and making things weird.

He does have a nice mouth, though. And a nice face, and a nice body, and his thighs. Oh, his _thighs._ The things Harry would like to do to his thighs.

"Can I help you?"

Harry tears his eyes away from the three dozen students running around in their full costumes, fixing their makeup and making sure their microphone wires are secured properly. He blinks at their bemused director, a little caught off guard, a little embarrassed to have just been imagining getting his mouth on his legs, a little unsure of what he came back here to say.

"Hi," he settles on, warmth heating his cheeks until he's sure he's properly blushing.

"I have to get these kids on stage in two minutes," Louis warns him. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to push him out the door though.

"I know," Harry promises. "I just came by to say good lu-"

"Oi," Louis stops him, slapping a hand over his mouth. "This is a theater, you twat. It's _break a leg,_ or you're uninvited from the after-after-party tonight."

Harry gently pries his fingers away from his face.

"The after- _after-_ party?" he raises an eyebrow. "Nobody told me about an after-after-party."

"It's after the after-party," Louis explains. "Once these kids are done with their pizza and ice cream, we're going out for some grown up fun. Me, you, Niall, and Liam."

"Okay," Harry nods. "I'll be there."

"Good," Louis says and reaches out to adjust the collar on Harry's button-up. "You should find your seat."

"First row, dead center."

"Really?" Louis cringes.

"No," Harry snorts. "Niall got seats somewhere in the back. But it's okay. I've seen the whole thing so many times now I could probably stand in for the lead if you needed me to."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Louis smiles, and it's only then that his eyes drop to the giant bouquet held somewhat behind Harry's back. "What are those?"

"Oh, these?" Harry shrugs, trying to play it cool as he holds the roses between them. He knows they don't mean anything. He knows they're just good luck flowers. Anyone would do the same if their closest coworker had worked their arse off to put on a production as amazing as Louis'.

Louis just stares at the flowers, brow slightly furrowed, jaw locked tight. He doesn't try to take them.

"These are gorgeous, Harry," he says, voice quiet, confused. "I can't accept these. I can't have you spending money on me like this."

"Well," Harry says awkwardly. "I already did. So."

He pushes the bouquet towards Louis until Louis is forced to take them, and then he just feels a bit silly for thinking to buy them at all. Normal friends don't actually do shit like this, do they? They just show up and clap and cheer when the curtains rise. Harry feels like a tosser.

He clears his throat, can feel the blush back in his cheeks. "Um. Break a leg, I guess."

It takes Louis a moment to find his voice again, and when he does, it's just to mumble a quiet "Thanks."

"See you after the show," Harry promises, and then some parasite must take over his body or a spirit must invade his consciousness - he doesn't fucking know - because he swears he blacks out and loses all control of his brain function as he leans over the giant bouquet and plants a soft kiss on Louis cheek.

So, there's that.

Before Louis can say anything, slap him, kick him in the nuts, or ask him why on earth he just did that, Harry backs away, turns on his heel, and bolts out the door and back into the corridor.

Okay. That definitely had not been a part of his plan.

Why did he do that? Why did he kiss his best friend on the cheek? What creature possessed him in that moment and thought, _yeah, that looks like a good place to put my lips?_

His lips, which won't stop tingling now that they know what Louis Tomlinson's mildly scruffy cheek feels like beneath them. He thinks he might like to do that again. But on his mouth. And neck. And other places.

"Are you alright?" Niall whispers in his ear when Harry sits down in the empty seat beside him and doesn't say a word.

Harry pulls his fingers away from his bottom lip and cringes at his current lack of brain function. "Just fine," he says, voice cracking.

He leans all the way back in his seat, shuts his eyes in the dim light, and tries to remember how to not be embarrassing.

The show starts five minutes late.

Harry doesn't let himself think about why.

\---

"You survived!" Niall shouts as soon as they find Louis out in the corridor some two and a half hours later, surrounded by congratulating students and parents and fellow teachers alike.

Louis catches his eye over the top of the students' heads and gives him a thumbs-up.

"Maybe we should wait for him in his classroom," Harry suggests, dreading the moment he'll have to come face to face with Louis again and either address or ignore what happened before the show.

"Good idea," Niall nods. "I think Liam's already in there with the pizza."

They squeeze through the mingling crowd until they're safely past the security guard who's job it is to keep everyone out of the rest of the building except faculty and staff, and those attending the student after-party. Liam is indeed inside Louis' classroom, as are a few members of the pit orchestra and their conductor, an older woman Harry's only had a few polite encounters with. Harry follows Niall inside, high-fiving and congratulating the kids on another great performance before taking a seat on the edge of Louis' desk, his usual perch when he finds himself in this classroom. One of his sticky-notes is still plastered over the cover of the book sitting beside him. It's got a heart drawn on it and a smiley face drawn inside the heart. Without thinking, Harry peels it off, folds it in half, and drops it in the bin next to the desk.

"Are you coming out with us later?" Liam asks as he approaches the desk with a fresh slice of pizza.

Harry makes grabby hands for it until he's allowed to break off a decent section of the crust. He pops it in his mouth, starving.

"I suppose you're going to make me," he says as he chews.

"I think it would make Louis happy."

Harry aims a kick at his knee. "You know, you and Niall really don't need to make everything about us. How do you even know he's into me? What makes you think we'd be any good together?"

"Mate, you live in his classroom," Niall points out, joining them with two more plates of pizza. He gives one to Harry. "You're always spending time with him outside of school. He brought you _home-made_ chicken noodle soup when you had the flu before Christmas. He's been trying to get in your pants since the day you pulled up to this school on your hotshot motorcycle and knocked on his door to ask his class to quiet down."

"First of all," Harry shakes his head, setting his pizza down and crossing his arms. "He is _not_ trying to get in my pants. If he wanted in, he'd already have gotten there. Trust me. I wouldn't put up a fight. Second of all, _fuck you,"_ he whispers, glancing around for young eavesdroppers. "He's my friend. That's what friends do. They hang out after work, they look after each other when they're poorly. If anything ever does happen between us, it's absolutely none of your business."

"Oh, it'll happen," Niall decides then and there. "With the way you're always all over each other, I'm surprised it hasn't accidentally happened already."

"That's enough," Harry says, hopping off the desk and taking his pizza with him. "I'm not going to trip and fall on his dick."

"Who's dick?"

Harry spins around and finds Louis coming towards the back of his desk, bouquet of roses in one hand, a bunch of congratulatory balloons held in the other.

"No one's," Harry insists as Louis sets the roses down where he'd just been sitting and starts tying the balloons to the back of his chair. "Here, let me do that," Harry offers quietly. "You go get pizza."

He shuffles around Louis' desk and nudges him out of the way.

"Who are the roses from?" Liam has to ask.

Harry feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He keeps his head bent, fingers busy tying all eight balloon ribbons into a neat bow.

"This one," Louis says, dropping a hand on Harry's curved back.

_And he kissed me on the cheek like a wanker,_ Harry half expects him to add. Instead, Louis just starts going after Niall and Liam for their lack of support.

"How come neither of you brought me anything?" he asks. "No bottles of champagne, no confetti, not even a celebratory cupcake? What kind of friends are you?"

"The kind that don't like to embarrass themselves," Niall rolls his eyes. "We're not popping champagne bottles in the middle of school."

"You didn't even get dressed up for me," Louis accuses, pulling at the hem of Liam's white t-shirt.

Liam frowns and swats his hand away. "Would you rather us go all out like Harry?"

They all turn to face him as he stands up straight, adjusting his jacket and pushing his loose curls back out of his face.

"Yes," Louis nods, giving Harry a quick once-over before turning swiftly away. "All of my friends should be required to dress like sexy vampires and present me with beautiful flowers at important occasions."

"Sexy vampires?" Niall raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Louis says. "Or just sexy in general."

"Is that how you'd describe your friend Harold tonight?"

Louis glances back at Harry again, his eyes raking over his body, from his chest down to his toes, back up again and making a show of it. Harry wants to disappear through the ground or out one of the windows behind him, but he meets Louis' gaze instead and realizes, yes, they're going to pretend the cheek kiss wasn't weird, and yes, Louis is going to inadvertently address the situation by challenging Harry to not do it again.

Because Harry is having a difficult time trying not to lunge at him and plant another on his mouth.

"Sexy vampire, yup," Louis nods and hooks a finger through the belt loop at his hip to pull him back into the group.

Harry goes easily, ignoring the looks Niall and Liam throw their way as he bumps into Louis' side. So what if they are all over each other? So what if Louis thinks he looks good tonight? So what if Harry wants to take him home and take his clothes off? It literally is _none of their business,_ and if it happens, it happens. And if it doesn't, that's okay, too. Nothing's happened for the past seven months. Why should tonight be any different?

Louis releases his belt loop and snakes his arm around Harry's waist, just beneath his suit jacket.

"Thanks for all your help with everything," he says softly, fingers dancing along Harry's hip as he pulls him in for a one-armed hug. "These past three months were crazy, and you were there for all of it."

Harry blushes. "It was nothing, Lou. All I did was bring you food and keep you caffeinated."

"And sit through every performance and dress rehearsal and regular rehearsal and be my personal cheerleader," Louis tacks on.

"Someone's got to do it," Harry shrugs. "God knows those two wouldn't have." He nods at Niall and Liam, who don't look even a tiny fraction guilty for not helping. They just look highly entertained, smug, pleased with the way this all just seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy playing out before them.

"Well," Louis says, squeezing Harry's hip. "Thanks."

And then he drops his own kiss to Harry's cheek and walks off to mingle with his students as if nothing's just happened.

So, there's that too.

"Is he still breathing?" Harry hears Liam stage-whisper to Niall.

He tries to subtly flip them off. No, he's not breathing. He's a little confused and a little aroused, and in the seven months since they've known each other, how is it they've never greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek or done anything remotely close to putting their lips on each other before? Why is this so new? They've spooned on Harry's couch for fuck's sake. Harry's helped Louis get his feet out of his skinny jeans after a night of heavy drinking. Louis walked in on him stepping out of the shower once. This can't possibly be the most charged interaction they've had.

His face feels like it's on fire. No wonder the play started five minutes late. Harry doesn't think he could string together a coherent sentence if he tried.

All from a fucking cheek kiss.

What is he? Twelve?

His eyes follow Louis to the other end of the room. There's a hint of color dusting the apples of his cheeks as he chats with the lead actress and congratulates her on an amazing performance. He must be incredibly proud of her, of all the kids involved. Harry sure is and he had almost nothing to do with the play.

He rubs at his face, aware that Niall and Liam are half a breath away from teasing him about it for the rest of his life. He doesn't care. They don't know what Louis' lips feel like against his skin. He does. And he knows what it's like to kiss Louis' skin, and those are the thoughts that are going to haunt him for the rest of this after-party, until the after-after-party, until he can possibly get Louis alone and ask him if they can try the kissing thing for real.

He's probably getting ahead of himself.

He's definitely getting ahead of himself.

"I'm gonna go... cake," he mumbles very coherently before drifting out from behind Louis' desk and collecting the largest slab of ice cream cake he can find.

He carries it into the corridor, and in the two seconds it takes for him to walk to his own classroom next door, half of it disappears into his mouth. It's cold. The brain freeze is almost too intense for him to fish his keys from his pocket and unlock his door, but he gets it in the end, flipping on the lights and falling into his squashy desk chair with ease.

He's faced with an empty room full of posters featuring anatomically correct cross-sections of genitalia and various _Say No To Drugs_ phrases of inspiration. This is his life. Constantly surrounded by cocks and balls, sex always on his mind, and none of it in the way he wants it. He hasn't been with anyone in _months._ He hasn't been fucked since that Halloween party he drove all the way to London for. It's April. Maybe he's just getting desperate.

But maybe, if he does make a move, if things happen, if he actually does slip and fall on Louis' dick, it could be okay. Louis might be his best friend at this school, but that doesn't mean hooking up with him has to change anything between them. Not if they keep it quiet, keep it straightforward, not if they don't let their other friends or any outside forces make a bigger deal of it than there needs to be. Harry can do friends with benefits. Hell, he could even date Louis and it wouldn't fuck anything up. They're practically dating already. Even Niall would agree.

He licks the rest of his ice cream off his spoon and drops his empty plate in the bin beneath his desk.

He needs a drink. Ice cream is great and sugar is like magic, but it's not alcohol. He needs alcohol. Lots of it.

What he turns to instead, is the stack of ungraded exams sitting in his desk drawer. He pulls them out and grabs his red marking pen, busies his head with grading and school work and jotting little corrections in the margins. This is how he's going to spend his Saturday night. Marking exams in his empty classroom, in his nicest black shirt and his tightest jeans, while Louis hosts a party for his students in the room next door. Harry wants to be in there with him. He just doesn't think he can handle it at the moment.

He can hardly even handle these exams.

"That's not the answer," he mumbles to himself as he tries to turn his own check mark into a bold _X._ He blinks at the three questions above it. Those aren't right either. What is he doing? He's failing his own exam and screwing up his kids' grades all because he can't ignore the thrumming beat of his heart or the sound of Louis' voice drifting through the wall behind him. He's just started giving a speech. Harry can't make out the words, but it's definitely Louis, and he hates that he's in this room instead of that one, and what is going _on_ with him tonight?

Maybe he _should_ date Louis. They could, like, go out for cute dinners together and hold hands at concerts. Harry could bring him flowers without it being weird. Louis could sleep over after an evening of watching rom-coms and cuddling on the couch. He wouldn't have to go home. He could stay the night.

_Just like he already does,_ Harry's brain whispers back at him. Because he does. He did just the other day - a _school night_ no less. And in Harry's very own bed. And they already do go out for dinner a lot, just the two of them, no Niall or Liam involved. And they hold hands at concerts. And watch rom-coms. And cuddle.

But the flowers... the flowers are still weird.

A clatter of applause breaks out on the other side of Harry's wall, startling him out of his toxic brain spiral. Louis must have finished his speech. Which means they're nearly finished. Which means it's almost time to get _drunk._

Harry's classroom door creaks open before he has the chance to start locking his exams back in his desk drawer.

"Hi," Louis says, sneaking inside and shutting the door behind him, a nearly empty bottle of water clutched in his hand.

Harry swallows hard. "Hi."

"You missed my speech," Louis accuses. "What are you doing, hiding in here?"

"Grading exams," Harry shrugs, capping his pen and shuffling his stack of papers. He drops them into the open drawer and slides it shut.

"Grading exams?" Louis raises both eyebrows. "Are you feeling okay? It's a Saturday night, Styles. There's a party in the room next door and you're all alone in here, doing your work and getting red pen all over your hand."

"I- what?" Harry frowns, twisting his arm around to find red smudges all along the side of his fingers. "Wonderful," he deadpans as he tries to rub it off. "I'm clearly a toddler."

"Come here," Louis sighs and motions for him to get up from the desk. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?"

"Apparently not," Harry says and joins him in front of the closed door. He offers his hand to Louis, who sticks a thumb down the mouth of his water bottle to get it wet before attempting to wipe the red marks off.

His fingers are gentle, his hands warm and soft and very thorough in removing every last bit of ink from Harry's skin. Harry can't help but stare at the look of concentration on his face, the way his tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth, how nice his eyelashes look, even under the harsh fluorescent classroom lighting. His heart stutters as Louis glances up at him, just a little flicker of his eyes, followed by a double take when he realizes Harry's staring back. He holds Harry's gaze, mouth curving into a small, amused smile, his fingers stilling on the outside of Harry's hand.

"All good?" he asks, and he _knows_ , he has to know what it is he's doing to Harry.

"Yup," Harry nods. "Perfect. Just peachy."

"You want to tell me what's up with you tonight?" Louis tries. "With the flowers and the suit jacket and kissing me on the cheek?"

Harry's stomach twists. "It's your big night," he says feebly. "And I'm kind of a big fan."

"Of musicals?"

"Yeah," Harry shrugs. "And you."

If the ground could open up and swallow him whole, that would be lovely.

Louis blinks at him, skepticism written all across the little crease in his forehead. "Did Niall put you up to this?"

_What?_

"What?" Harry frowns.

"I don't know," Louis groans, dropping his hand and taking a step back. His heels bump into Harry's supply cupboard, making both of them startle. "He's always going on about us being good for each other and how we should try dating. I just thought maybe he got into your head or something. You have to admit you're acting weird tonight."

"Thanks," Harry huffs. He already knows he is. He doesn't need Louis pointing it out.

"Sorry," Louis winces. "It's just, you can't expect to just show up with two dozen roses and kiss me on the cheek and _not_ get asked a few questions."

"You kissed me on the cheek too," Harry reminds him.

"Because you did it first," Louis says. "And it was weird and confusing and you deserved it for coming to my musical dressed like _that."_

"Like what?" Harry asks, glancing down at his outfit. "A sexy vampire?"

Louis shakes his head. "No. I don't know. You're just, like." He shuts his mouth, drops his eyes to the floor between them and exhales roughly. "I'm having a very difficult time not kissing you right now."

Oh.

"I mean," he continues, lifting his head but avoiding Harry's wide-eyed stare. "It's kind of been that way for the past few months," he says, "but tonight is just. Yeah. Tonight, I really want to kiss you."

"Okay," Harry says dumbly. He can't feel his body anymore. He thinks he might be floating off the ground. He has to ask. "Months? Really?"

"Have you seen yourself?" Louis sighs, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. "I know I say it all the time, but you are a very attractive person."

"Speak for yourself," Harry exhales on a shaky breath.

"I'm serious," Louis says.

"So am I."

"Why did you bring me two dozen roses?"

He crosses his arms and leans back against the cupboard, challenging, demanding, asking Harry to explain something he really has no simple explanation for.

"Because I drove past the florist on the way here," he says carefully, heart going wild in his chest. "And they looked beautiful in the window. And so do you."

"I look beautiful in the window?" Louis has the nerve to tease.

Harry sighs and shakes his head.

"I'm going to _throw_ you out the window," he mutters and reaches out for Louis' hands where they're tucked under his arms.

"Why don't you kiss me instead?" Louis suggests, which. Yeah, that sounds like a better idea.

So, Harry does.

He takes Louis' hands and tugs him away from the cupboard, catching his mouth with his own as Louis stumbles against him. And then they're kissing. Louis' jaw is in Harry's hands and Harry can feel it working as their lips part and press together. Louis pulls Harry closer, his palms spreading over the small of Harry's back. And they're kissing.

Harry is kissing Louis. Loud and vibrant, loving and caring, sweet, sweet Louis. The same Louis who likes to braid his hair during lunch hours, who threatens to cut holes in all his flowered shirts, who once suggested they start a rumor amongst the students that they're secret boyfriends just to shut Niall up for five seconds.

Well, the joke's on them, because Harry tilts his head to allow Louis better access to his mouth, and Louis' tongue slips between his lips, and there's a hand sliding down towards his arse, and they should have done this months ago.

Heart beating wildly, Harry backs Louis up against the supply cupboard, crowding into his space, breathing him in, curving against his body until the air all but disappears between them and he can feel Louis all along his front. A list of things he would very much like to do with him float through his head, each of them more likely to lose him his job than the last. He wishes they weren't hiding in his classroom. He wishes there weren't thirty students eating cake in the room next door. He wishes he could take Louis home and do this some more, and then, quite possibly, do _some more._

"Do we have to go out tonight?" Harry murmurs, lips still brushing Louis'. "I quite like this."

"Do you?" Louis asks, arching into him. "I reckon it could be better."

"How so?"

"Less clothes," Louis offers, sliding a hand up under the back of Harry's suit jacket. "More privacy."

"Mmm," Harry nods, pressing their foreheads together. "I like privacy. Privacy sounds like a good idea."

He ducks his head to get at Louis' lips again, just to drive the point home.

"You are... really good at this," Louis mumbles, untucking the back of Harry's shirt from his waistband. "Kind of better than I thought you'd be."

He runs his fingernails over the bare skin of Harry's lower back, and Harry practically melts against him as the resulting shudder rolls up his spine. He plants both hands flat against the cupboard on either side of Louis' head and lets their mouths run together. He could do this all night. He could taste Louis for the rest of his life.

"We have to go back to the party," Louis exhales.

"I don't want to."

"Too bad," Louis says and smoothes his hands up Harry's sides, completely untucking his shirt.

As he goes to find Harry's lips again, a massive _bang_ sounds just outside the closed door. They startle apart faster than Harry can wrap his head around, Louis immediately trying to fix his shirt, Harry just trying to catch his fucking breath.

"What the fuck was that?" Louis whispers, eyes wide, mouth red and shining, hair sticking up and his cheeks this lovely shade of pink.

Harry did that to him.

"We can't go out there," he answers, panicked. "We look like we've just been having a snog."

"Haven't we?"

"They don't need to know that," Harry says as he starts to tuck his shirt back into his jeans. His hands are shaking like he's trying to pour salt over his chips. "Just, like, peek your head outside and make sure everything's alright."

"Can't you just look out the window?" Louis asks.

"What if someone's out there?"

Louis rolls his eyes.

"Just do it, Harry."

"Fine." Harry takes a deep breath, sneaks along the wall until he's just to the side of the door. He peeks through the glass. The corridor is empty. Whatever the noise was, it must have come from Louis' classroom.

"Nothing?" Louis asks, adjusting his hair.

"Nothing," Harry nods. He feels like his heart might fall out of his chest. "Listen, what if I go wait for you in the car park while you check your room. Convince Niall and Liam you aren't feeling well, and then we'll ditch this and go have our own _after-_ after party."

"What about the kids?" Louis frowns. "I can't leave them here."

"You already gave your speech," Harry reminds him. "They're all going home soon anyway and there's plenty of other teachers in there to supervise. Just do it. Say a quick goodnight, tell them how proud you are, and let's get out of here."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "Getting desperate?"

_"Louis."_

"Alright," Louis gives in, bouncing anxiously on his toes. He digs into his back pocket and pulls out his set of keys. "Wait for me in my car. We're not taking your fucking death trap of a bike."

"I wish you wouldn't talk about my baby like that," Harry sighs.

Louis just drops the keys in his hand and steals a little kiss from his pouting mouth. This is nice. Harry could get used to this.

"I'll see you in two minutes," Louis says.

Harry opens the door just as Niall walks by with a deflated balloon hanging from a string. That explains the noise.

"Have you been popping my balloons?" Louis asks, squeezing past Harry, appalled.

Niall just stares at the two of them, delight sparkling in his eyes. "Have you been hiding in there with Harry?"

He knows. God, he already knows. It must be written all over their stupid faces with their red lips and their screwed up hair.

"We were having a snog," Louis says, blunt as ever.

The air rushes out of Harry's lungs.

"A snog?" Niall repeats, eyes narrowing. "You? With _him?"_

"Hey," Harry pouts, offended. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you," Niall says, "I mean, you're a little odd sometimes, but that's beside the point."

"Then what is the point?" Louis asks.

"You expect me to believe you were kissing each other?" Niall rants. _"Just now?_ After all the times I've tried to make it happen?"

"Yes."

"In your fucking dreams," Niall says, shaking his head as he starts down the corridor and back. "I knew something like this was going to happen. After all the times I've pissed you off, trying to hint that you two should go on a date or whatever-"

"Hint is a mild term," Harry mutters.

Niall ignores him. "I knew you'd try to get back at me," he says. "I can't believe you would sneak off and get all mussed up, make it look like you've been kissing each other, and wait for the exact moment I walked by this door to step out and try to fool me. Arseholes."

"Right," Louis says slowly, glancing sideways at Harry, completely bewildered.

Harry gives his head a small shake. He doesn't know what's happening to them. One second Louis was going on about him showing up with flowers, the next second they're going at it against his classroom wall, and now this. What a wild night.

"Congrats," Harry says, inching down the corridor. "You caught us, Niall. We're not as clever as we thought we were."

"We are the worst," Louis agrees with the fakest smile the world has ever seen.

Harry wants to kiss him again. So much.

"Well," he says, clapping his hands together and startling both of them. "This was lovely, but I have to go."

"You're not coming out for drinks?" Niall frowns.

Before Harry can remember the excuse they'd discussed, Louis hurries to his aid.

"He think's he's coming down with a fever," he says, running a hand over Harry's forehead and holding his hair out of the way. "Still warm. Looks a bit poorly, doesn't he?"

Harry holds his breath as Niall takes a good look at him. It's like he can almost see the thoughts forming in Niall's head that something isn't sitting right. The wheels are turning, the puzzle pieces are rearranging, but nothing's clicking, the ball never drops, the lightbulb never goes off.

Finally, Niall nods in agreement as Louis squeezes Harry's cheeks. Harry's not sure whether to be insulted or grateful.

"Maybe I should drive you home," Louis suggests.

Harry pushes his hand away. "Okay."

"Wait for me in the car while I say goodbye to the kids," Louis says and pretends to drop his keys on top of the set already sitting in Harry's hand. "The after-after-party can wait for next weekend."

"Okay," Harry says again. He coughs for emphasis. It sounds pathetic, even to his own ears.

Niall declines a hug, too afraid of catching his mysterious illness, but he wishes Harry a speedy recovery and lets his suspicions die away. And then that's it. They're free to go. Harry's out of there, hurrying down the rows of lockers and out the back door to the nearly empty car park before anyone can stop him. He spots Louis' car under a street lamp and climbs inside, spends the next three minutes trying to wrap his head around the fact that they kissed, that they got away with it, that Louis is about to take him home.

Louis is about to take him home.

What a fucking _wild_ night.

The driver's side door opens before Harry gets the chance to fully accept it all as reality. Louis throws his bag in the back with a loud clunk and ducks inside bouquet first, the car filling with the sweet smell of roses almost at once.

"My place?" he asks, twisting around to lay the flowers carefully across the back seat.

Harry nods, unable to stop staring at the side of his gorgeous face. "It's closer, isn't it?"

"It is," Louis agrees.

He goes to turn back around, buckle up and start the car, but something stops him. He blinks at Harry, eyes dark under the haze of the street lamp, lips slightly parted like he's about to say something.

"What?" Harry asks, the word tumbling out on the exhale of a breathy laugh.

"Nothing," Louis says with a little grin just before he leans across the center console and kisses him all over again.

Harry's ready for it this time, eyes fluttering shut as Louis' hand sweeps up the side of his neck, cupping the back of his head and drawing him in. He lets himself get pulled to the center of the car as their mouths fall open, as Louis' breath curls against his tongue, hot and needy, utterly enticing. Something heavy swoops low in his stomach. He wants more. He wants to feel Louis against him, wants to run his fingers all over him, wants to be near him. There's too much space in this car.

Fingers fumbling, he gets his seatbelt unbuckled. The little click of it has Louis faltering, his hands tangled in Harry's curls, his tongue just swiping the corner Harry's upper lip. Harry rises up, one hand gripping the back of Louis' seat, ready to climb over the center console and settle into Louis' lap, but Louis stops him, their lips pulling apart with a wet smack.

"Not here," he breathes, tugging distractedly at Harry's hair.

Harry shakes his head. Yes here. Here and everywhere and for as long as they want. "Please, Lou?"

"Anyone could walk by," Louis reminds him. "Our students, other teachers. Parents."

"A little scandal never hurt anybody," Harry tries and pushes forward to press another firm kiss to Louis' lips. Louis lets him, sinking back against the door, sliding further down his seat until Harry has no choice _but_ to start climbing into the other side of the car.

"We can't," Louis stops him again, turning his head to the side and settling two hands on Harry's chest.

_"Please,"_ Harry whines. He'll beg if he has to. He doesn't care.

"We're better than this," Louis insists, face scrunching like it's paining him to keep Harry away.

"We aren't."

"We are."

"We just lied to our best friend," Harry groans. "We aren't better than any of this."

"It wasn't a lie," Louis reminds him. "I told him exactly what we were doing and he didn't want to believe it. That's not my fault. Come on, H. Get up so we can go home."

"Fine," Harry decides and ducks down for one last peck. And then another. And another. And one more that lasts several seconds too long and has Louis releasing this delicious little moan into his mouth that goes straight to Harry's groin. And that's all Harry gets before Louis basically shoves him into the passenger seat and hurries to start the car.

"Put your seatbelt back on," Louis says as he buckles his own.

It takes Harry's brain a good three seconds longer than usual to process his words and do as he asks. It's just so difficult to tear his eyes away from the sight of Louis with his hair all tousled and his lips thoroughly kissed, the top buttons on his shirt undone - Harry doesn't even remember doing that - and his jaw locked tight with the determination to drive them home and not let Harry start dry humping him just outside the school. Because Harry would. He would definitely do that if no one were there to tell him _no._

Louis waits until Harry sighs and nods and secures himself in place before he backs out and starts them off on the short drive home.

"It'll be better on the bed anyway," Louis says.

Harry just about blacks out. "Jesus, Lou," he exhales shakily. "You can't just say shit like that."

"I can't?" Louis smirks.

"No."

"Why not?" he asks. "That's where this is headed, isn't it? I hate to admit it, but Niall's been right all along."

"I know," Harry sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He was right about all of it."

"We can't let him know," Louis insists. "None of this was his doing. I don't want to sleep with you just because he said we're good together. I want to sleep with you because you're fit as fuck and you stuck with me through the hell that is the spring musical _and_ because you brought me flowers."

"Oh good," Harry chuckles deliriously, "they worked."

Louis reaches across the car to pinch his thigh.

"You said you bought them because they were beautiful," he accuses. "Not because you wanted to sleep with me."

"I know, Louis. I'm joking."

"Niall and Liam can't find out," Louis repeats as he fumbles around with the radio. "I don't want them ruining this. No meddling, no nonsense. I just want to have fun."

"Alright," Harry nods, smiling. "I can do fun."

He leans over and kisses Louis on the cheek. Louis bats him away, blush visible under the passing street lamps.

"Not while I'm driving," he warns, but he's smiling. He's cute.

"Okay," Harry promises. He pushes Louis' hand away from the radio. "I get to pick the music."

\---

Even the shorter of the two drives home still takes another fifteen minutes of speeding down the main streets and back roads before they're parked outside of Louis' flat and scampering out of the car. Harry grabs the roses and balloons while Louis fetches his bag and goes to unlock the door, neither of them saying anything despite the buzzing energy between them.

They drop everything just inside Louis' flat. The balloons rise and bounce against the ceiling, the roses crinkle on the floor, Louis turns the lock behind them and flicks on the little light above the entryway, and then it's just the two of them, standing there, waiting for what comes next.

"This is nice," Harry comments, pretending to look around. "Am I going to get a tour?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "You're such a pest," he mutters. "How many times have you been here?"

"Enough to know where the couch is," Harry grins before ducking down and capturing Louis' lips in a searing kiss that burns and burns and doesn't stop until they've stumbled over each other on the way to the living room and Harry's pushed Louis, _gently,_ over the arm rest of said couch.

"Get over here," Louis says, scooting back to the far end and reaching out for Harry to join him. He's just lying there, legs a little spread, hands hugging a throw pillow to his chest. Just lying there, in the same spot they were in a few nights ago, cuddling, drinking wine, watching Moana like any respectable adult would.

Harry goes, but not before pulling Louis' hotshot director shoes off and kicking his boots to the floor. He kneels on the edge of the first cushion and crawls up between Louis' legs, pulling the pillow away from his chest and dropping kisses up the front of his shirt, spending a moment on Louis' gorgeous collarbones before settling over him, kissing him slow and deep.

It feels good, really good, the heat of Louis beneath him, the shift of his body as hands slip under shirts and start to glide buttons through holes, the steady building of pressure against the front of his jeans as everything else comes undone. Harry rolls his hips, feels Louis starting to get hard as well, hears it in the way Louis' breath hitches, the way he moans as he goes to do it again, and Harry wants that. He wants to hear that all night long. He wants to get Louis hard and get him off and have him panting into his mouth as they make each other feel good.

"This okay?" he asks, fumbling with the button on Louis' trousers. He sits up for a moment, taking in the sight of Louis' exposed chest, his flat stomach, the way it all rises and falls with each heavy breath Louis takes.

"Yeah," Louis exhales, nodding. "Definitely okay. Just take them off. I never needed them."

"I'll remember you said that when you go to put them back on in the morning," Harry notes. He gets the button undone and pulls the zipper down.

"Who said anything about sleeping over?"

"I thought it was implied," Harry shrugs.

"Might make you leave," Louis tells him as Harry starts tugging his trousers past his hips.

"I don't have my bike," Harry says.

"I'll call you an Uber."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome," Louis manages to get out as Harry gets his pants past his ankles and throws them under the coffee table. "Take off your shirt."

Harry does, shucking it to the ground.

"Anything else?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you think I should light some candles?"

"I think you should stop talking and let me blow you," Harry suggests.

That seems to quiet Louis. Harry leans up the couch to kiss him, soft and smooth, just the wet glide of their tongues. He starts down the side of Louis' neck, sucking at his pulse point, grazing his teeth over the juncture of his shoulder, slowly making his way south to where his palm's settled over the front of Louis' briefs.

Part of him wants to take his time, wants to savor the taste of Louis' skin, wants to get him writhing and worked up beneath him before he even gets his mouth over the head of his cock. The other part of him has been thinking about this since September, maybe not in too many details, just the little flicker of an idea at the back of his mind, but it's waited so long and he can feel Louis' cock fattening up as his fingers circle him through the fabric of his boxers, and he just _wants_ so badly, he can't hold off for too long.

He kisses a wet line down the center of Louis' chest, gets his stomach fluttering with the way his tongue flits out around his belly button, feels every muscle in Louis' abdomen clench as he rolls back the waistband of his briefs and lets his cock bob free.

Harry should have brought something to tie his hair up with.

He licks his lips, takes Louis in his hand, gives him a few strokes to drag his foreskin back. He's already wet at the head, a drop of precome beading over his slit. Harry's own cock gives a hard throb against the front of his jeans.

"You're looking at it like it's a fucking snack," Louis laughs, breathless, amused.

Harry flips him off and gives the head teasing lick, just a quick flick of his tongue over the bit of precome at the top.

That's all the warning he allows before he settles back on his haunches and takes Louis into his mouth.

"Jesus," Louis hisses at the warm, wet slide, his hands scrabbling for purchase in Harry's hair.

Harry glances up at him, cheeks hollowing, lips gliding up and down his length. He loves this part, loves seeing the effect he has on guys as he takes them down, sucks them off. He loves how their eyes go dark, how the sweat builds on their chests and foreheads, loves watching their stomach muscles pull tight when he relaxes his throat and lets them slide down the back of it.

It's somehow even better with Louis.

Harry hasn't done this with anyone in so long, he forgets how intense it can get, how the burn and stretch of a cock in his throat can get his eyes watering, his lungs begging for air. He forgets how it feels to have fingers pulling at his curls, to have someone fighting not to thrust into his mouth, to have his cock straining against his jeans, begging for release, begging for a hand or mouth or any sort of attention.

His nose grazes the hair at the base of Louis' cock before he pulls off, coughing, breathing hard, a line of spit running from his mouth down to Louis' stomach. He pops open the button on his jeans and pushes them just far enough down to get his cock out and free it from the front of his briefs.

"God," Louis groans, watching him carefully, the head of his cock smearing a wet line over his stomach while Harry gives his own cock a few tugs.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," Harry gently reminds him, voice ruined.

"I haven't," Louis shakes his head, "not hard, not like this - and I thought I told you not to mention the shower thing ever again."

"The look on your face, though." Harry snorts.

"I thought you said _come in!"_

"I said _don't_ come in."

"Well, obviously," Louis sighs, sitting up a bit to reach for Harry's hands. Harry lets go of his cock to link his fingers with Louis', allowing Louis to pull him back towards the top of the couch. His thighs ache a bit as he stretches out again, but he can't complain, not when he feels the brush of Louis' cock against his own, not when Louis wraps his legs around him and draws him closer, not when Louis finds his mouth and starts licking the taste of himself out of it.

"Want you to fuck me," Harry murmurs against his swollen lips as he grinds down, putting pressure on both of them.

Louis' nails glide down the planes of his back, fingers toying with the waistband of his briefs before slipping under and kneading over his arse.

"That's the plan," he says.

He pulls at Harry's cheeks, spreads them apart just enough to dip into his crack and brush a finger over his hole.

Harry moans, louder than he's proud to admit.

"Interesting," Louis exhales on a little laugh. He does it again before Harry can call him a prick, and Harry's cock jumps this time, his arse clenching.

_"Louis,"_ he groans and bites down on Louis' shoulder to keep from swearing. He's going to start fucking into Louis' hip if he keeps this up.

"Should we take this to the bedroom?" Louis asks, nudging the tip of his finger into his hole.

It's dry and it's barely anything, but that doesn't make Harry feel any less like crying out. He's not going to make it. This is how he dies. Getting fingered open by Louis Tomlinson.

"Show me where the magic happens," he whines, pushing himself up enough to steal a kiss just before Louis threatens to shove him onto the floor.

"You've been in my flat a hundred times," he sighs. "You're the _least_ funniest person I know."

"And yet you still want to put it in me," Harry winks as he clambers off the couch and almost trips trying to wriggle all the way out of his skinnies.

"Don't hurt yourself."

As Harry follows Louis into his room and crawls up the bed he's accidentally fallen asleep in more times than he can remember, he realizes they're going to be okay. This won't change anything. Whatever fears he might have been harboring, whatever reasons he had for not allowing the idea of this to fully take shape in his head until tonight, they're all irrelevant. Because Louis is still going to be his Louis, the loud-mouthed drama teacher in the room next door, the boy who teases him for his bad jokes and indulges him for the good ones. They're still going to be best friends. Kissing each other won't change that. Sleeping together won't change that. They have no need to worry.

"All good?" Louis checks as he fingers Harry open, both of them sweaty and worked up, Harry lying on his back with one leg hooked over Louis' shoulder. Harry's got three fingers rubbing against his prostate and five more wrapped around his cock. The only response he can manage is a choked off groan as Louis pulls out and lowers his foot back to the bed.

"Sorry, what was that?" Louis smirks. He rolls a condom down his length and starts slicking himself up with lube.

"All good," Harry sighs and spreads his legs apart, wrapping them around Louis' waist as Louis lines himself up with his entrance. "Are you gonna be one of those guys who needs constant reassurances during sex?"

Louis glares at him, the head of his cock brushing his wet hole and making Harry squirm in anticipation.

"No," he says. "I think all that moaning and groaning is reassurance enough."

He starts pushing in before Harry can get annoyed by his little dig, pausing when Harry tenses and immediately clenches around him.

"Relax, Styles, it's just my cock."

"I haven't had sex in months," Harry says, shifting his hips, trying to breathe, trying to do as Louis says and just relax. "Why do you feel so fucking huge?"

"I literally just told you I don't need reassurances," Louis grins before he braces himself over Harry and attempts kiss the tension out of him.

He goes slow, feeding his cock into Harry inch by inch until his hips are pressed to Harry's arse and Harry feels so full he's sure his insides have rearranged themselves in the process. It takes a moment for him to adjust to the stretch, the ache, the weight of Louis on top of him as he starts fucking, slowly, steadily, but after a minute or two of Louis taking his sweet time, it starts to ease up. It's not Louis' fault. It's not anyone's fault. It's just that Harry hasn't had anything up there but his own fingers since October, and now it's nearing the end of April and things are just a little tight.

Louis seems determined to fix that. He folds himself over Harry as his hips roll, cock nudging deep inside of him, one hand fitting between them to stroke Harry back to full hardness. He finds Harry's mouth, eyes shining in the dim light before they flutter shut, these endless pools of midnight blue, shadowed in the dark. It doesn't take long for Harry to start squirming beneath him, grinding up to meet his slow thrusts, breaking kisses to bite at lips and whimper for _more, more, faster, harder._

The rhythm builds until it's just the sound of skin on skin, breaths catching, groans getting swallowed by kisses and forced back out by well-angled thrusts. Something fiery ignites deep in Harry's belly as he feels Louis' hips stutter against him, as Louis' head drops into the space next to his and a pair of lips start mouthing at his neck. He hasn't had sex like this - sex with someone he knows, someone he cares about - in a long while. It's nice. It's a little scary. It's weird to have it mean something, even if it's only a small something.

"Mm, right there," he groans as Louis jostles him around a bit, trying to switch up their positions. "Do that again."

"This?" Louis asks, pressing Harry's knee back into the duvet and fucking into him rough and deep. An instant wave of pleasure shoots up from the base of Harry's spine.

"Fucking hell," he pants, gripping his cock. "Yes, that. Keep doing that."

"Shit," Louis swears on the tail end of a disbelieving laugh. "You were so embarrassed about kissing my cheek earlier tonight and now you're telling me how to fuck you. How does that happen?"

"That was before I knew you wanted to have sex with me." Before Louis kissed him back, before Louis cornered him in his classroom and demanded an explanation, before Harry had the chance to think that maybe, just maybe they could make this happen and somehow manage not to screw things up between them in the process.

He lets go of his cock as Louis leans over him and holds his knee down, maintaining that steady brush over his prostate that has his toes curling, precome dribbling out over his stomach. Louis swipes his fingers through the mess on his way to Harry's cock, kissing him again as he starts stroking him in time with his thrusts.

It doesn't take long for Harry to come after that. His orgasm just sort of builds out of nowhere, a slow burn in the pit of his stomach that seems to ignite with a few tight strokes and a pair of lips over his mouth. It barrels right through him before he has the ability to realize what's happening. One second, he's clawing at Louis' back, urging him to go a little faster. The next, he's staring up into Louis' amused but obliging face and realizing he's getting fucked by the best person he's met since starting work at this school, and apparently that's enough for him.

"Fuck, _Louis."_ His head tips back, he arches up to meet Louis' tight fist, his hole clenches, and he spills all over Louis fingers, his stomach, both of their chests. "Holy shit."

He jerks and twitches and spasms while Louis fucks him through it and milks him for all he has. Louis doesn't let up, not even for a moment, not even when it all becomes a bit overwhelming, when the only thing Harry can manage to do is just lay there and try not to squirm away. Louis comes not long after, burying himself in Harry's arse and breathing hard into the side of his neck.

"Christ," he exhales, lips hot and wet, mouthing at Harry's pulse point as their lungs heave and they try to catch their breaths.

Harry tugs gently at his hair, tries pulling his head away. "I'm gonna get hard again if you keep that up."

"What?" Louis murmurs, sucking over his skin. "This?"

"Yeah, arsehole," Harry groans and starts struggling away, pushing Louis off of him. It burns a little when his cock slips out, Harry's hole stretched and empty, muscles sore and aching in the best way. He can feel the tender spots on his hips where Louis' fingers dug in. He'll be feeling those for a few days.

"What if I _want_ to get you hard again?" Louis asks as he sits up and ties the condom off. He throws it in the bin over the side of the bed and grabs the first thing he can find to wipe the drying come off of their stomachs. Harry's pretty sure it's his own boxers, but he's not going to complain.

As soon as he's clean enough, he wriggles under the duvet and holds the edge up for Louis to join him.

"Bit hot for this, innit?" Louis asks as he slips under and stares at the ceiling. "Bit sweaty?"

"M'tired," Harry sighs, rolling onto his side and blinking at Louis' profile in the dim light. "I just want a cuddle."

"Give me a minute," Louis breathes. "I need to cool down."

"You must be knackered," Harry says and pats Louis' arm. "That was good. You did a good job."

Louis cringes and gives his shoulder a lazy shove. "Stop with the reassurances or I'm going to kick you."

"More like _kiss_ me," Harry tries and puckers his lips. He inches closer and closer to Louis, soft giggles bubbling out of his chest until he's right on top of him and Louis has no choice but to give him what he wants. It makes his stomach flutter. It makes his heart beat a little harder. He likes kissing Louis.

"I'm glad you thought the sex was sufficient," Louis sighs, finally putting a stop to it with a hand smushed against Harry's mouth. "Next time, keep the review to yourself."

"Even if it's a ten out of ten?" Harry grins against his palm, and then it kind of hits him. Next time. Louis wants to do this again. He licks a wide stripe over Louis' hand. "When's next time?"

"Probably in an hour."

"Alright." Harry nods. "And after that?"

"Whenever we want?" Louis offers quietly, a little less sure.

He grabs an extra pillow from behind him and hugs it to his chest again as he stares at the dim ceiling. The low light drifting in from the living room casts deep shadows over his face, lines his cheekbones, highlights his jaw. Harry should buy him some candles for next time. Scented ones, to better set the mood.

"I like this," he murmurs, running a fingernail up Louis' bicep and watching the goosebumps spread across it. "I like this with you."

It doesn't feel like a hook-up. It doesn't feel like it's just sex, like they've finished and now he has to get dressed and go home, never mention it again until the next time it happens. It just kind of feels like hanging out, like a natural part of their usual routine, like it's okay and they're okay and the fact that they're naked under the sheets together has no bearing on any of that.

"I like this too," Louis says, turning to face him with a small smile before shifting entirely onto his side. He keeps the pillow tucked to his chest but he slips a knee between Harry's thighs and tries to scoot closer

"I like you," Harry says, because he does. He's liked him since he met him.

"You're already in my bed, Styles. No need for all the flattery."

"Okay," Harry laughs, trying and failing to hide his own little smile. "But it's true."

"Yeah?"

Harry nods. Louis goes quiet, just watching him. When he doesn't say anything for a while, Harry gently pries the pillow from his grip and throws it down past their feet. He closes the rest of the gap between them, nudges Louis' nose with his own.

"What are you thinking?" he murmurs.

Louis releases a heavy breath and butts their foreheads together. "I'm thinking that we should take a nap," he says. "And then I might suck you off. And, also, maybe, we should keep this to ourselves for a bit. Not just about tonight, but like, anything else we might do, just until it's not so new anymore."

"Why?" Harry smirks. "Afraid you might get tired of me soon?"

"I'll give you a week or two," Louis shrugs.

"Be nice."

"This is me being nice," Louis says with a gentle grin, and then, on a more serious note, "I just don't want our friends telling us what to do or how they think we actually feel. Knowing Niall, if we tell him on Monday, he'll be trying to convince me you've fallen in love with me and I've fallen in love with you by next weekend."

"Are you saying you haven't?"

"Fallen in love with you?" Louis huffs out a laugh. "Sorry, babe, but you're going to have to work a bit harder for that."

"Even with a face like this?" Harry scrunches up his nose and bares all his teeth in the cheesiest smile he can muster.

Louis pokes a finger at his dimple. "Especially with a face like that."

"Alright," Harry chuckles softly. "I'll work on it."

"Thanks," Louis says before he kisses Harry, light and lazy and a little sleepy. He loops his fingers through Harry's curls and massages at his scalp, tugs here and there while teasing at his lips until Harry wants nothing more than to roll on top of him and kiss him straight into the mattress.

He almost does, but Louis stops the kiss first to stare at him through the shadows, eyes hooded, the slight curve of his lips a dark shade of red.

"When you do start to fall in love with me," he says, with a tiny, knowing, hint of a smile, "do you think you could let me know?"

_"When_ I fall in love with you?" Harry raises an eyebrow. "What makes you think that's going to happen?"

"It's a serious question."

"You don't look very serious," Harry tells him. He doesn't, not with his eyes lit up like that, not with his teeth digging into his bottom lip, trying to hide his grin.

"Well," Louis says, "I am."

"Okay," Harry sighs and slips an arm around his waist, drawing him closer for their impending nap. "When I start to fall in love with you, because you're so sure I will, you'll be the first to know."

"Good," Louis nods and draws the duvet up over their shoulders. "Try to remember that."

Harry doesn't know if it'll happen, doesn't know where this is going to take them, how long it'll last, what it'll even amount to, but if it keeps going, if it grows and evolves and brings him to a place where he's in love with Louis Tomlinson and Louis Tomlinson wants to know about it, then yes. He will try to remember to tell him.

For now, he's set to fall asleep with his arms wrapped around this incredible person, his legs intertwined with those of his best friend, the drama teacher from the classroom next door, the boy who told him to go ahead and kiss him and got what he'd asked for. His heart jumps a little as he snuggles closer and shuts his eyes. He feels Louis shift against him and shuffle down the bed, trying to get comfortable when they're both warm and sweaty and too tired to do anything about it. A pair of lips press one last kiss just under the line of Harry's jaw, and it's nice, he thinks. This isn't the worst night he's had.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](http://anylessreal.tumblr.com/).
> 
> [fic post](http://anylessreal.tumblr.com/post/167130190975/like-vines-we-intertwined-bananasandboots-harry).


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